


Confidant

by arepitas



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arepitas/pseuds/arepitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Female Mahariel/Zevran fluff ficlet. Because it's Valentine's Day and cuteness always goes.</p><p>The truth was the presence of another elf in her group, in camp, comforted her. Morrigan could criticize Zevran all she liked, describe any number of possible ways for him to kill Sol now that he had gained her trust – cut her throat, poison her meals, break her neck – but that would not change the fact that Sol trusted him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confidant

The truth was the presence of another elf in her group, in camp, comforted her. Morrigan could criticize Zevran all she liked, describe any number of possible ways for Zevran to kill Sol now that he had gained her trust – cut her throat, poison her meals, break her neck – but that would not change the fact that Sol trusted him.

He had, after all, seemed honest in his surprise when she’d invited him to join her party. Something had flickered in his eyes when she decided to spare his life. Later, as he told her the story about Rinna, she recognized it as disappointment.

Another truth was that she did not like to sleep alone. She had shared quarters ever since she was a little girl. First with Ashalle, who had cared for her as a mother, then with friends, and later, occasionally with lovers. It calmed her to have someone lie next to her, hear their breathing. In case of attack, it was easier to fight if you were not alone. Having someone share your tent meant safety, especially if some nights shemlen decided to hunt knive-ears for their own amusement. Now that she was a Grey Warden, nightmares about darkspawn and the archdemon increased her discomfort at the thought of sleeping alone.

Sure, she had considered asking Leliana to join her. But Sol didn’t know what to make of her, yet. Her kindness seemed genuine, but there was more behind her story of being stranded in a convent than she let on, and Sol felt uneasy at the thought of not knowing. Zevran’s honesty did make things a lot easier.

The first time she had asked him to join her, he had seemed hesitant. Made her affirm two, three times that she wanted him there.

“Only if you wish,” she had told him. An offer from his benefactor would be hard to turn down, especially if she was someone holding your life in her hands. “No sex,” she had explained, much to his surprise. “I just want company.”

He smiled.

“Ah, but are you sure? I am, after all, an exquisitely fine specimen.”

She caught his eye, smiled back. “I am.”

With a nod, he acquiesced.

“You are a curious woman,” Zevran had said, as he lied down next to her. “I do not remember anyone asking me to join their bed with such… _pure_ intents. Or is it to make things more exciting in the long run?”

She smiled. “It may be.”

“I will not deny it, the pleasure of lying next to a beautiful woman is a great one nonetheless.”

It had not been late, and her other companions saw them leave together. It would be easier to let them assume than to explain. Friendly as they were, her interactions with humans had been few and often violent. Trust did not come easy, even if they were in this together. This did, of course, not escape Zevran’s attention.

“You are,” he said one night as they lay together, “a very cautious woman.”

“Yes.”

“I … wonder –“ he began, but fell silent. Opening this can of worms might not be a good idea, after all. But he had piqued her curiosity.

“Go on, Zev.”

“You seem to trust me,” he said carefully.

So this was where he was going. Trust was a difficult thing. Especially if you had been raised among your own people, with few visitors from and interactions with the outside. Her companions might have proven loyal, but they were human, still. Zevran might not be Dalish, but still, he was one of her own.

“I do,” she replied. “Do you wonder why?”

Zevran sighed. Did he? It was hard to say. Gaining other people’s trust was such an integral part of being an assassin – a good one, at that – that it came easy to him. But this was different.

Sol felt the silence rise between them. The question still hung in the air.

“You have been honest with me from the very beginning,” she said. “That is why.”

“But I am not an honest man,” he said carefully.

She laughed.

“No. But you do not pretend to be.”

Zevran caught her eye. He understood.

“Ah, my Warden,” he said, his tone somewhat playful again. “Your affection flatters me so.”


End file.
